Excerpt: Houseguest

- Houseguest By Sherry Morris
This essay won third place for Nonfiction in the 2002 Mid-Atlantic Writers Conference First published in The Writers Post Journal December 2004 Excerpt:
My e-pal flew over the oceanMy e-pal I wanted to meetMy e-pal flew over the oceanOh, please send her back and hit delete!
Well, Wendy was the very first person that I ever felt a connection with on the Internet. I'd been chatting with her on a Bee Gees fans' e-mailing list for two and a half years. We were so much alike. She was such a fun girl to banter with. I was really excited that she was coming to visit me, all the way from Australia.I envisioned deep music discussions, music video marathons and lots of silly laughing. I thought we could walk my kids to school, with Maurice (our yellow Labrador Retriever pup) and then just wander around town, jive talkin' about the night fever because we know how to do it. I looked forward to taking Wendy to the bookstore on rainy days, where we'd sip tea and read. And I wanted to show her off to my girlfriends. Little did I realize that nobody gets too much heaven no more and I couldn't see that the joke was on me.The Bee Gees are my tween-aged daughter's boy band. We discovered them together one evening when PBS broadcast their One Night Only Las Vegas concert for the annual public television pledge drive. My husband gave me the One Night Only CD for Valentines Day, and opened my heart to their tremendous songwriting and performing talent. They've written more than 500 top ten hits, for themselves and artists as varied as Barbara Streisand, Elvis Presley, Conway Twitty and Destiny's Child. I had no idea, because American radio had blackballed the Bee Gees in the early 1980's, when disco music went out of fashion. They essentially blamed the three brothers, Barry, Robin and Maurice Gibb, for the whole genre.I'd met nearly three dozen girls from the Internet at fan gatherings and concerts. They had all been in real life just like they were online. Either lovely or Cruella De Vil.My e-pal was about five weeks into her three month North American adventure when she arrived at my local Amtrak station. She was traveling from fan to fan. Wendy insisted on staying with us for three weeks, during which time, she'd come and go, touring the Mid-Atlantic region. She didn't lodge with anyone else longer than two nights, so I felt special, because she liked me so much.As soon as we got her home, my husband and I both realized what a terrible mistake I'd made. Weepy, witchy, woe-is-me Wendy demanded constant pity. She matter-of-factly told me she was jealous of what I had with my mate. Well, excuse me, but I am not apologizing for having a good marriage. Wendy enviously said he resembled Robin Gibb. Again, not my fault she married an ugly old man.Wendy barely tolerated Maurice. She screeched and kicked him away for being a puppy (jumping, licking, chewing, wagging, sniffing).Another fan had recently sent me some CD's she'd burned; demos and old solo things I can't buy. So I played them in my sport utility vehicle, while we drove to the Olive Garden restaurant on the first night. Wendy sang along to every song, drowning out the Brothers Gibb with her quivering alto vibrato. She wallowed in the sad songs, some of which I'd never thought of as sad until she sang them. E-pal expected us to kiss her and make her all better. Well, when she blew her nose while strangling my favorite song, I lost it and told her she had to stop singing. So I didn't listen to any music for twenty-one days.Essay Available at Amazon Kindle Essay Available in all eBook Formats at Smashwords